


Any Portkey in a Storm

by apirateapoetapawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Treat, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apirateapoetapawn/pseuds/apirateapoetapawn
Summary: Kingsley wants to help Severus, but will Snape let him?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notearchiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notearchiver/gifts).



> I hope this is what you had in mind. I made it a treat because I wasn't sure the word count fit the challenge.

Kingsley noticed the way Severus held himself, straight and stiff as ever but there was something… odd. As Dumbledore spoke of the latest news of Death Eater movements throughout the wizarding world, his mind and eye wandered again and again to Snape, trying to pinpoint what was bothering him. When the meeting finally adjourned he moved to engage him in conversation but before he had taken two steps Severus apparated with a sharp snap and was gone. He cursed under his breath. Why did he always have to make things so difficult?

The more he thought about it, the more Kingsley became convinced Severus was hiding something at the meeting. In his mind he replayed Snape’s late entry, the way he stood at the back of the room as though hoping to escape notice, though Kingsley had only perceived his arrival because Dumbledore cast his gaze upon him for a few moments and raised an eyebrow as he spoke. Kingsley followed Dumbledore’s gaze and saw Severus back there by the door, his arms folded beneath the sleeves of his robes.

His arms folded… Wait. That was it! He had not taken his hands from his robes for the remainder of the meeting. That coupled with his stiffer than usual posture and the tight line of his lips meant he was probably in considerable pain. Severus wasn’t the type to show it. He might be lying in a pool of his own blood and not a grimace would escape him. Kingsley always assumed he had learned how to hide any sign of discomfort in the service of the Dark Lord to keep from inciting the volatile wizard to further violence, for there was nothing Voldemort liked more than inflicting and seeing the result of pain. 

Severus might be an expert at concealment but Kingsley was an expert at uncovering truth. An Auror had to be adept at sniffing out subtle changes in looks or demeanor, recognizing physical or psychological distress caused by the use of dark magic, and Severus was a treasure trove of these clues. 

Dumbledore still didn’t fully trust Snape, despite the information Snape provided and the seeming loyalty with which he provided it. Kingsley knew it, and so did many of the Order, so Kingsley took it upon himself to keep an extra eye on the elusive Potions Master. Having surmised a problem he was determined to find out its cause and Snape’s sudden disappearance was not going to deter him. 

He knew from the fact Severus had apparated that he couldn’t be returning to Hogwarts so there was only one other place he was likely to find him this time of night. Kingsley stepped out into the chill spring night and apparated to that place.

Kingsley entered the Hog’s Head, his colorful robes garnering stares from some of the more unsavory looking patrons. He could feel the presence of dark magic in several of the shadowy nooks at crannies of the pub. A cursory glance around the room revealed Severus in one of the dim booths at the back, a candle on another table illuminating his pale face, which was the only visible part of him in the darkness. He was downing a shot of Old Ogden’s and had a Hog’s Head Brew chaser in front of him. Snape had a sour look on his face. Of course he always had a sour look but this was more so than Kingsley was used to. He performed a quick mood match charm on himself so Snape wouldn’t reject him outright and felt very unpleasant indeed when he slid into the booth opposite him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Snape said. 

Kingsley couldn’t tell if it was because Snape was expecting him or if he was expecting someone else. He did notice that Snape’s right hand, his wand hand, was hidden beneath the table.

“It was a long, boring meeting with Dumbledore nattering on tonight and I needed a spiced mead. I saw you sitting here alone and thought you might not mind company. I guess I was wrong,” he snapped.

“And you came to the Hog’s Head instead of going to the Leaky Cauldron or any number of other venues more… suitable for an Auror,” Snape said sardonically.

“I’m bored with my usual haunts, thought I’d try something different. What’s it to you?”

Snape graced him with an imperious look as a cup of mead floated over from the bar and took its place in front of Kingsley. “Something different, eh? Like following me? I know you don’t trust me, Shacklebolt, but you could be a bit more discreet in your inquiries. It’s a wonder you have not fallen prey to some curse or other through your lack of… prudence.”

Kingsley felt sarcastic, and not just from the charm. “Like the way you’re hiding your injured hand? We can’t all be as subtle as the masterful Professor Severus Snape.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left him for the twinge of anguish he saw pass through Severus’ eyes before they hardened into flint. 

“You have overstayed your welcome,” Snape said icily. “Please take your drink and find another patron to accost.”

Kingsley softened immediately, fighting off the anguish and fear of his own charm. He was worried about Severus, and not just for whatever injury he might have. He was worried about _him_ , the secrecy, the playing both sides. The life of a spy was dangerous and stressful and though Severus would never admit it or complain, Kingsley knew the toll it could take. 

“Look, I confess I followed you,” Kingsley said, “but it isn’t because I don’t trust you. It’s because I’m worried about you. If you have an injury you need to have it looked at.”

“That is my affair, not yours!” Snape said menacingly. Kingsley almost missed it but he felt a slight, very slight, shift in his mood. It was not the unpleasant prickly feeling he had been picking up from Snape, it was something else.

Kingsley sighed. “Yes, of course it is. I just thought if it was something related to your work I might be able to help.”

“Well you won’t help me showing up here,” Snape said his eyes darting around to see who might be watching. “As I said, you have overstayed your welcome. Now go!” Kingsley felt Snape’s paranoia seep into his brain and knew it was time to take his leave. 

Glancing uneasily about the pub, he left money on the table for his drink and exited quickly. He hadn’t even considered how he might have compromised Snape by showing up at the Hog’s Head, but on the other hand perhaps not so terribly. The Death Eaters knew Snape was a professor at Hogwarts and that an Auror might approach him for any number of reasons in light of recent happenings at the school. At least he hoped if he had been seen by any of Voldemort’s minions that might be the case. Instead of the mood match charm he should have used one to change his features so as not to be so easily recognizable. He would make a lousy spy.

It was very late and the stars shone like crystal in the black sky above. He needed some fresh air to clear his head. Kingsley removed the mood match charm and began to walk along the muddy lane that led out of town. From there he would apparate back home and try to get the picture out of his head of Severus nursing a painful injury – alone. He wished there was more he could do, some comfort he could offer, but not even a wizard could crack a heart of stone.

He was on the outskirts of the town, past the lights of the lane and it was pitch dark except for the stars. He had his wand out preparing to cast _Lumos_ when a voice from behind startled him.

“Shacklebolt, that spell is not wise here.”

He turned to see Snape coming up the lane, all in shadow. His stride was quick and purposeful.

“Why not?”

“Just as I suspected, your presence in the pub caused a stir. You are being followed.” He reached into his pocket and held out an object Kingsley couldn’t see. “Put your hand on this,” he ordered.

Without even thinking of the consequences should Snape be playing a double agent trick, he touched the object and felt the familiar sensation of the hook at his navel as he was whisked away to only Snape knew where. 

When his head stopped spinning from the sudden change he found himself in a dark, chilly parlor. Snape was lighting a candle with his good hand. There was an ancient skeleton key on the table. The portkey. A little on the nose, but a good choice since it could be carried without suspicion. Snape indicated the fireplace with a nod.

“Would you be so kind?”

Kingsley pointed his wand at the fireplace and it leapt to life, throwing off welcome warmth. He turned to Snape who was standing stiffly, seemingly at a loss at what to do or say next.

“I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble…” he began.

Snape waved his good hand dismissively. “It will be all right. I didn’t want to take the chance you might be followed home. It wouldn’t do if your residence was to be compromised. Providing that’s where you were going.”

“It is. It’s very late so I was going to apparate home. Thank you for warning me.” He hesitated for a moment. “Well, I guess I should be going.”

“Did you mean what you said before, about helping me?” Snape asked. He wasn’t one to beat about the bush, Kingsley observed. He admired that about him.

“Yes, I did. I could see at the meeting and the pub how you were hiding your hand.”

“And were you wondering why I was late to the meeting?”

“I was, though it might have been trouble with a student or some school business.”

“I will tell you it was not,” Snape said. “The Dark Lord has grown bold and I was summoned to a conclave of sorts. I am, as you know, required to… do things on occasion, things to prove my loyalty. Tonight was one of those occasions. Do you still wish to help me?”

“Of course, if you will allow it. If there is dark magic involved there might be a charm or spell to counter it.”

“I sincerely hope so. It would not do for the students to see it, nor the staff. It would start tongues wagging and none of us needs that at this delicate juncture.

Snape revealed his hand at last. It was twisted, withered to a claw, the skin burned almost black. Kingsley was so horrified at the sight he forgot himself.

“Severus, what happened?” he cried.

That was the wrong thing to say and Snape covered the hand again and turned away. “Perhaps it is better if you just leave,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Kingsley said. “Let me take a look. I can at least tell you if there is something I can do or if you’ll have to seek medical attention.”

Snape hesitated a moment but at last he turned back and presented his hand again. “It is best if you don’t know the details but it’s the result of a rebound.”

Kingsley’s stomach turned over. Snape was casting a curse and it turned on him. That would be a grave injury indeed. Perhaps Voldemort was experimenting with rebound curses. That would have a double benefit. It would help the Dark Lord understand what had happened to him and he could use the experiments to torment both his followers and dissidents alike. He forced himself to take a closer look. Yes, he had seen this before, a rebound of a curse, an ancient one. So old the Ministry had not outlawed it because the technique for casting it was thought lost to history, but Kingsley knew that wasn’t so. In fact, he had come across it in a book of ancient spells during a mission to Africa. When he presented it to the Ministry only the historians were able identify the curse and had ordered the book destroyed. Fortunately, Kingsley had kept a copy of the spell and counter spell knowing the Ministry was compromised. Snape’s burn would require medical attention but Kingsley could restore the hand. Or at least he hoped so.

“Where did Voldemort even find this curse?” Kingsley muttered to himself.

“Obviously the same place you encountered it,” Snape said, startling Kingsley who wasn’t expecting an answer. “There are spies in the Ministry.”

“Yes, of course,” Kingsley replied. “You wouldn’t happen to know…”

He glanced up at Snape but shut up when he was met with a warning glare.

Kingsley cleared his throat. “Um, well then. I can counter this, I think, but it’s going to hurt. Is that all right?”

“Do it,” Snape said tersely. The scorn had left his voice, replaced by a touch of fear. Kingsley felt his heart skip a beat to see even this small vulnerability.

“I’ll need a beazor, nine ostrich shell beads, and an ox fat candle,” he said, thinking out loud.

“The counter is a potion?” Snape asked. “I’m not familiar with…”

“Not a potion but the items provide a catalyst of sorts for the spell. Are your stores extensive enough to have what we need, or do I need to search elsewhere?”

“The beazor and candle I have on hand. The beads are another matter. Are they strictly necessary?”

“I’m afraid so. I do have an idea though. You get what we need from your stores and I’ll get the beads.”

Snape gave him a distrustful look but eventually turned and left. Kingsley cast about the room for the right object, smiling when he discovered just the thing.

When Snape returned a moment later, Kingsley was putting the finishing touches on the beads. Snape’s eyes nearly popped out of his head to see his mortar brimming with egg yolk and the pestle nowhere to be seen.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” he burst out.

Kingsley looked up from his task with an impish grin. “I had to improvise with a little transfiguration. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind. That mortar and pestle was a graduation gift! It’s my favorite set.”

“Oh,” Kingsley said, bemused, “sorry about that. I knew the ceramic would be a good match for the eggshell.” He looked down at the broken eggshell then back at Snape. “I suppose I could try to undo it, but it wouldn’t be the same.”

“Never mind,” Snape said with a heavy sigh. “Do you have what you need?” He laid the other two items on the table.

“Yes, since this is improvised I can’t guarantee it will work a hundred percent but it should at least give you some relief from the pain and you’ll get most of the mobility back.”

“Let’s get this over with then,” Snape said. He seemed resigned to whatever might happen next.

Kingsley lit the candle then put the beads and beazor next to each other on the table. “Put your hand over the beads and roll up your sleeve.”

Snape rolled up the sleeve of his robe but had to lift his right hand with his left to place them on the beads. An action that seemed to take most of his remaining energy. He slumped against the table, holding onto the edge with his left hand. Kingsley gathered himself, concentrating all his will into his hands which he used to make a hex sign.

“ _Kustawi_ ,” he intoned in his deepest, most commanding voice.

For a moment nothing happened but Kingsley held steady, letting the magical energy flow into Snape’s shriveled appendage. Slowly the tightly curled fingers began to unfurl like the blossom of a flower. Color came back into the skin beneath the burns and the bones audibly cracked as they snapped back into place. Snape gave a stifled cry and would have fallen to the floor had Kingsley not caught him. 

Kingsley helped him onto a couch in front of the fire. He sat down beside him, holding and steadying him. Severus gazed glassy eyed with pain into the flames as though reliving some horrifying memory. The burns were still visible and looked even worse now upon his otherwise normal hand. Kingsley wished he had the power to take that pain away as well but Madame Pomfrey would have to see to that.

To his surprise, Snape allowed Kinglsey to hold him for a time before he finally turned his head, staring as though he just noticed he was there.

“You can unhand me now, Shacklebolt,” he said with an air of false bravado.

Kingsley wasn’t fooled, but he let him go. He hesitated, then asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Snape let his head fall upon the back of the couch and stared wearily at the ceiling. “In point of fact I would, but I can’t. Thank you for your assistance but there isn’t any more you can do.”

“A burden shared is a burden lightened, as my grandmother used to say,” Kingsley said.

“Not when sharing can bring harm to others. I know you mean well but this is something I must do on my own. Can you understand that?”

“Yes, I can,” Kingsley said. “We all have secrets and responsibilities to keep. I won’t ask again, but Severus...?”

“What?” The scorn was back.

“If you ever need me, if there’s ever anything I can do...”

Snape raised his head and looked at him, the hard glint was gone from his eyes, replaced by suspicion.

“You truly mean that, don’t you?” he said quietly.

“I truly do,” Kingsley assured him.

They stared at each other for a few moments and then Kingsley did something on impulse he could not have foreseen in a million years. He leaned over and kissed Severus.

He expected a sock in the jaw or a blast of _Crucio_ but instead Snape allowed it, then surrendered to it, then aggressively took control, fierce and hungry. 

A quick spell to remove their clothing and the two ravaged each other without a second thought right there on Snape’s parlor couch, their heat rivaling that of the fireplace. It was spontaneous and forthright, no promises asked or given. They gave themselves wholeheartedly, without hesitation or regret and afterward they lay in a naked embrace, Kingsley’s head on Snape’s chest, the fingers of Snape’s good hand stroking Kingsley’s back.

They did not speak, no more words were needed. At one point as the fire waned Snape simply said " _Accio_ blanket", and covered them both. There they remained, basking in the afterglow, each thinking his own private thoughts until they drifted off to sleep.

Kingsley awoke the next morning, alone, to a cold fire, Snape having slipped away somehow without waking him. He was still wrapped in the blanket, his clothing lay in the hasty pile where they had been discarded the night before. Yet he did not feel abandoned or at a loss. Last night had been a special moment, a shared comfort in the hectic lives of two people trying to hold a world together, each in his own unique way.

He rose and dressed, his eyes falling upon the table with the portkey. There was a folded note next to it with his name on it.

He picked it up and read: _This will take you back to the outskirts of Hogsmeade. From there you can go wherever you wish._

Simple and succinct, he thought, a bit disappointed. Then he saw words appear at the bottom of the paper. _You may return the key to me next time. Thank you for last night Kingsley. Love, Severus._ He read the words three more times before the paper flash-burned in his hand, destroying it with no trace.

With a huge smile Kingsley picked up the portkey and was gone.


End file.
